Heart of Winter
by angels cry too
Summary: IY/YYH Kagome's wintery persona is melted by the demon with a knack for stealing hearts. A oneshot.


**Heart of Winter**

A oneshot.

Music.

By far, it was the strangest, most absurd analogy that could have possibly crossed any one of their minds, but there it was. This was, to Kagome's tired, jaded mind, music.

It was the steady beat of broken hearts. Bittersweet lyrics of unspoken fears, un-whispered promises tickling the hairs on the back of your neck late at night, when the darkness was as full as the moon and the creepers in the shadowy recesses of tainted doubts came out to play. It was the tragic chorus of heartrending sobs over lost love and lovers lost; the pitter-patter of shallow rain that did nothing to cleanse the blood from the body or the conscience. But, most of all, it was the silence.

Between the quiet lyrics, between the hearts both broken and still, between the creepers and doubts and blood and death and horrible, horrible living, waking, tangible, haunting nightmares, was silence. It was deafening. It was thunderous. In a rolling, pitching, screaming ocean filled with sounds of despair loud enough to wake the newly-dead that lay on the ground at their feet, the silence was heard most—was always heard most.

It was the un-displayed exhaustion tearing away at her from the inside. She was exhausted, by Kami, yes, she was exhausted. But what right did she have to cry? To break down? What right did she, Kagome, who head lost nothing but her innocence, have to give in? The fight was over, yes. It was the time to let go. There was blood on her hands and sadness in her eyes, but Kagome could not cry.

It was the smell of fear, the look of terror, the feel of pain. They have no sound, no meaning but those with which you supply in your mind. Her mind always supplied the worst.

This was the lullaby of a dead man, broken and lost to blind hatred. It was the symphony of a woman freed, heart back in her chest and hair in the wind. It was the concerto of a prince of ice who had let his cold heart melted by a warm smile. It was the orchestra of a fighter, torn down and stripped bare, cradling shattered remains of lost hope in tired arms and closing unseeing eyes. It was the tribute to a man who had fought for his life against irrepressible evil, and won, but with what price? It was the requiem of a little boy hidden under tough words and a big sword. It was the psalm of two tired women, neither belonging in this world or their own.

This was the music of a warrior.

ooo

Days went by. Kagome didn't really see.

Lost to reality, she sought comfort in solitude, often simply watching the passing nature.

Months, years, she couldn't tell.

Sakura blossoms constantly enthralled her. She sat for hours by the lake, watching the elusive pink things flit by in the wind. The wind, though—a wonder, too. It often reminded her of Inuyasha. She liked its cool touch on her cheek, a ghost of the caresses that had never really come to pass.

And she mourned, because now they never would.

She wore the garb of a miko, but her duties were often lost to dreams of golden eyes and sunset smiles.

She knew she was no real help, but the town never needed much help anyway. With the passing of Naraku, things were relatively calm in Edo.

ooo

She wondered if she would live forever. Looking at the jewel in her hand, she knew it was quite possible. It had been a long while since she'd seen a familiar face.

There was a rock digging into her back, but she couldn't tell. She'd become numb, emotionally and phsyically. Only the faint heat of the jewel at her neck told her that she was still alive. Not that she much cared.

Why should she?

One family dead, the other unreachable.

Until one day.

It was the only reason she bothered to breath, other than the fact that to not do so wouldn't matter.

Death was laughable to those who are immortal.

And after all, breathing and living are two separate things.

One day, though, she would see them again. She waited until that day.

She didn't want to die alone.

ooo

She amused herself with the most insipid things.

Although she wondered if her broken heart could feeling such an emotion anymore.

Or any emotion at all, for that matter.

She doubted it, as she watched a butterfly flit by. It was big and scarlet, like the sky at dusk in the wilds of the Makai.

She traced it with her eyes, watching as it was chased by a small squirrel, and scoffed.

_You'll never catch it._

The squirrel looked eager. The butterfly flitted away. Out of sight, out of reach.

_Told you._

ooo

It was dark out, but the girl didn't really care.

Why _shouldn't_ she take a bath now?

The constant swishing sound of the small waterfall relaxed her, as she shed her clothes by the edge. She stepped in.

Her hair fanned out slightly in the wind. The moonlight reflected on the water, causing her damp skin to shine. Stepping under the waterfall, she let it pour over her body, running her hands through her hair and over her skin. She let some of it pour into her mouth.

She was visible from the ankles up, her feet being the only things under water, and she hummed a soft song with no real tune, letting the elusive melody slip past her lips without thought. A movement to her left caught her attention. The humming stopped.

"Oh," said a voice. It was deep and silky and slightly predatory, but less than effective on the girl. "Don't stop, sweet nymph. Your voice is like spring."

"Ironic, then," she said to the unseen stranger, "that my heart is like winter."

"To be sure. I have seen you before. Tell me, how can a human live so long?"

"Years are but numbers, which can be manipulated with ease."

"You wish for eternal youth?"

"I am cursed with it."

She could feel his eyes on her body.

"Such a _lovely_ curse, then."

She frowned.

"Who are you?"

"A thief," said the man, who she now knew to be a youkai. "And yourself?"

"Uninterested."

"That can change."

Her frown deepened.

"Step out, so I may see the face that taunts me."

He stepped out. Her breath hitched.

"Inu-Inuyasha?"

He shook his head and stood directly under the moonlight. She could see the differences now.

"Youko," he said. "Youko Kurama."

ooo

More days passed. Youko came and went.

He often gave her gifts, precious jewels and kimonos of silk from who knew where. She gave them to passing towns, or traded them for a room and a meal.

He was silent, after that first night by the waterfall. Often, only his soon-familiar presence in the trees told her he was there. She grew accustomed to it.

After a while, he was a comfort. A connection to the world of the living that she wanted to leave so badly.

Once, she sang for him. In a field of cosmos flowers on a warm day, she let her voice of spring fall from her lips and into the trees. Her heart of winter, she realized with some concern, was melting.

He began to sit with her. They had small conversations, somehow never really needing to use words to portray their thoughts.

Eventually, he walked with her.

Still, though, he often left for heists. Kagome found that she missed him when he was not around.

He began to camp with her. She never forgot the night she woke up in his lap, pulled up against his chest with his arms around her waist. He was warm and strangely comfortable, so she pretended to be asleep until he lifted her and put her back to her previous position.

One day she found that she wasn't so numb anymore.

It scared her.

ooo

Another time, he kissed her.

What a strange thing, kissing. She wondered who had come up with it. Whoever it was, they were a magnificent genius.

His lips were soft and gentle, his fangs smooth against her tongue. She was shy at first, protecting what little grip on her emotions she had left, but soon enough she just didn't care. He smelled like roses, after all, and his tongue was doing glorious things to her mouth.

And who didn't love roses?

Or...tongues.

ooo

Kissing became a regular occurrence. Kagome didn't mind.

A few months later, they had sex. It was...amazing. Like fireworks and friction and fangs on her neck and his hand on her hips and _oh._

If Kagome had known it would feel like _that_, she would've lost her virginity ages ago.

That night, she told him she might just love him.

ooo

Eventually, he marked her as his mate.

The night after, he went out for another heist, saying he'd come back with a glorious present for her. Neither could stop smiling.

He never came back.

ooo

Some three hundred years later, she walked down the streets of Tokyo. Her hands were full of school books and she wore her once-familiar sailor fuku.

The day she had waited so long for had come to pass, and Kagome had decided to go back to school.

She waited at the corner of the street for the blinking red light to turn green. She was running late.

As it turned green, she stepped forward onto the street. Someone bumped into her from her right and she tripped and fell.

"Oh, no!" she cried. Now she was going to be even _later_. Someone stooped down in front of her and picked up some books, handing them to her with a smile.

"Here," he said kindly. She looked up into the most gorgeous green eyes she had ever seen. She thought vaguely that the man felt familiar, but dismissed it in favor of staring at him. It wasn't often you came across such beauty any more, after all. Even the youkai in the Makai weren't quite as pretty as they used to be.

"Thank you," she smiled as she stood up. He began to walk away. "Wait!"

He stopped and turned to face her. People were milling around them now, all in a rush for one thing or another. Kagome decided she didn't really care if she was late.

"Don't I get a name?"

He smiled.

"Minamino," he said. "Minamino Shuichi."

And with that, he walked away.

ooo

**Author's note.**

So, what did you think? I decided I really wanted to do a one shot, and I had this idea in my head, so I just spit it out onto paper. Tell me if you like it. (By that, I mean review. Heh.)

Ah, by the way, when I said that he never came back, it was because he died, not because he left her. Just to clarify. 8)

Ja ne!

Hayley


End file.
